


A Revolutionary New World

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen, talent swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Everything seemed to slow down, so much that the current moment dragged into an indefinite period. Her ankle twisted and as she started to fall, the world around Kyouko swirled like paint water being sucked down a drain. Soon, her whole vision blurred, and she may as well have gone blind. She might have gasped, but she couldn’t hear anything either, and then, she couldn’t think. All she could do was fall, fall, fall, until she was caught.'</p><p>Talent Swap AU. Kyouko Kirigiri leaves her dojo in the mountains to join Hope's Peak Academy, but soon finds herself an unwilling member in a mutual killing scenario.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Revolutionary New World

The colossal building on the other side of the ornate metal fencing could not have been anything but Hope’s Peak Academy. It consisted of a number of columns that stretched far into the blue overhead, so imposing that any and all clouds that today had brought didn’t hang above the school grounds, as if they hadn’t been given permission to. At the top of the tallest tower, located at the front of the school, was Hope’s Peak’s emblem, exactly the same as the one on the acceptance letters that Kyouko Kirigiri received a few months ago.

She clutched those letters in her gloved hands right now. Even though she perused them on an almost daily basis ever since a man in a suit departed by helicopter from the mountains that shrouded her family’s dojo, rotor thrumming, Kyouko took a moment before continuing into the school to compare the emblem watermarked into the photograph of the school with the one physically in front of her, on the building.

They matched. This was definitely the right place. Her shoulders slumped briefly. Then her grip on her papers tightened and she tore her eyes away from them, fixing her stare onto the school instead. Standing tall, she pressed the buzzer by the gate and after it opened, she marched on through, all the way to the door to the entrance hall.

Once there, Kyouko held the door open but didn’t step through. Not yet. She had long since left behind the city centre’s rumble of traffic, that surrounded the woodland that surrounded the school grounds. The school was built in the centre of everything. Not just the woodland and the city. As bold as this claim might have sounded, it was built in the centre of the world too.

This super A revolutionary new worldexclusive academy, officially recognized by the government, guaranteed certain success in life to all those who graduated. Each student, scouted by the school and personally invited to attend, bore a title that deemed them among the very best in their respective field. Super High School Level students, they were called. The man who arrived at Kyouko’s family’s dojo in a private plane two nights ago, not the same man who came in the helicopter, he gave her a list of the titles of her future classmates along with small photographs beside their names. There would be a Super High School Level Hacker, a Super High School Level Heir, a Super High School Level Swimmer, and more. All of them were considered the very best at what they did, and all were roughly the same age as her. Kyouko was no exception.

She drew in a deep breath, feeling that she had wasted too much time despite being here an hour early, and pushed herself forward, out of the regular average world that lay behind her and into the extraordinary way-above-average school in front of her. The sole of her zori sandal met the polished flooring of the entrance hall in a confident first step, and she looked down, locking eyes with her reflection.

It was at this point that fog started to spread through her brain.

Everything seemed to slow down, so much that the current moment dragged into an indefinite period. Her ankle twisted and as she started to fall, the world around Kyouko swirled like paint water being sucked down a drain. Soon, her whole vision blurred, and she may as well have gone blind. She might have gasped, but she couldn’t hear anything either, and then, she couldn’t think. All she could do was fall, fall, fall, until she was caught.

* * *

 

Something hard and flat pressed against Kyouko’s forehead. Everything was dark. Kyouko tried to sit up and found that she could, so she did. She rubbed her eyes, head pounding. An attempt to swallow failed, as something seemed lodged in Kyouko’s throat, and she dropped her hands to the desk that she was sat at. The thump they made on impact caused her to nearly jump off the wooden chair beneath her.

Desk? Chair? Still feeling queasy, she surveyed her surroundings. Somehow, she had been transported to a classroom even though she had just been in the entrance hall. Memories of events that occurred prior to arriving at the entrance hall fell into place, but nothing filled in the gap between stepping into the entrance hall and gaining consciousness here. Whatever happened had separated her from the acceptance letters and the piece of paper that listed all of her future classmates. Those were gone. Missing.

Her face pulled into a frown at the lack of transition. She didn’t recognise the classroom. Its walls were painted yellow and blotted with orange like the patches on a giraffe, and had become more saturated and faded over time. Of more importance, though, was the clock by the blackboard at the front of the classroom. According to the analog clock, which announced the time to be a half past eight, she had slept for roughly an hour and a half. It also meant that the gathering had already started in the entrance hall.

The classroom suggested that she was in Hope’s Peak, but she couldn’t be sure of this. Perhaps, she thought to herself, if she could leave this room and explore the area, she could find out where she had been taken as well as who had taken her. Kyouko hobbled over to the front of the classroom, with the room still spinning a bit around her. She reached a hand toward the door and cast a final glance over her shoulder.

Well, she intended it to be just a glance, but something caught her attention. As opposed to windows, iron plates appeared to have been bolted to the walls. Deciding that being a little more late to the gathering in the entrance hall wouldn’t make much of a difference, she wandered over to a pair of plates next to each other and stroked them. Metal. Definitely metal. Her lips pressed together tightly and she knocked on one of the plates.

Thick and solid. They blocked all light from outside and it would be impossible to budge them. This sort of thing didn’t belong in a school, but in a prison...

She looked away and spotted some paper on the desk that she woke up at, that she had somehow missed before, and returned to the desk in case it was something important.

It turned out to be a pamphlet. Kyouko picked it up and opened it. Scrawls and doodles covered every page as well as the front and back cover. She read the inside, which didn’t contain a lot of text but because of how huge the text was, it left only enough room for a small picture of a crudely drawn building that was probably Hope’s Peak Academy.

The text interested her more than the drawing, though.

“A new semester has started!” Kyouko read aloud. “A revolutionary new world awaits you bastards inside these school walls.”

Kyouko hesitated and averted her eyes, and her gaze fell upon another peculiar thing in this room. In one corner of the room, a security camera stared at her, suspended from the ceiling by a metal arm. The more she thought about it, however, the less odd she thought it to be. A prodigious school like Hope’s Peak would have cameras in case suspicious people tried to infiltrate the premises. Even her dojo boasted security cameras.

Then again, the cameras in her dojo didn’t have four miniature cannons attached to the bottom of them. In addition to the iron plates, this camera really gave the place a prison-like atmosphere. Kyouko could have spent more time searching the room, but she had the feeling that her confusion would clear away faster if she went back to the entrance hall.

As she approached the door for a second time, she realised that there might be guards on the other side, or the door could be locked, but that didn’t scare her at all. She could take care of herself.

If she had found that she needed to break down the door, she wouldn’t have been surprised, but it opened with ease. No one pounced on her or slammed the door shut again, so she poked her head out. Kyouko raised her fists and slid her right foot forward, snapping her left foot up to the heel of her right foot shortly after. Once she shuffled through the doorway and out of the classroom, she peered down both ends of the corridor.

Deserted, but she did spot some large arrows taped to the walls on her right. She followed them. At the first corner, she could either go straight ahead or turn and enter another corridor. More arrows decorated the walls in the corridor to her right, and none were in the corridor in front of her, so she travelled down the one to her side rather than continue on straight.

The arrows took her down a few twists and turns and stretches of corridors, and when she rounded a corner that led to a corridor with a set of double doors at the end that had a large pink cross painted on them, she knew she was almost at her destination. Nevertheless, Kyouko paused at the beginning of a corridor connected to the one she was in, distracted by a sign at the mouth of it. The sign’s texture gave the illusion that it was constructed out of brown bricks and had a black sheet of paper taped onto it that, in white text, said, ‘Despair Hotel’.

Curious though she was, Kyouko would explore there later. She headed over to the double set of doors, the ones with the pink cross, and opened them. Like before, she entered the entrance hall, but this time, inside, they waited. A group of maybe a dozen people.

“Are you a new student?” asked one of them, a guy with round spectacles that were comically small and surely couldn’t serve much practical purpose. His dreadlocks were tied back in a ponytail.

“I am,” said Kyouko. She tucked her hand under her chin. “Are you new as well, then?”

Before she could focus on the person who just spoke to her, someone dressed in suspenders, green shorts and a same colour bow tie stepped forward, hand raised and shaking.

“I b-believe so. We were all supposed to start at Hope’s Peak Academy today,” said the person in suspenders. Their shoulders hunched. “B-But...”

“But you fell asleep and woke up in a random classroom, ‘right?” said the guy with the dreadlocks.

“That’s right,” said Kyouko.

“My, things are just getting stranger and stranger, aren’t they?” mused a girl with almost white skin and tousled black hair in two bunches, tied in place with ribbon bows, red just like her eyes. A lot of the girl’s outfit was either red or white. Her blouse was white, but her pleated skirt and ribbon neck tie were both red.

She and Kyouko stared at each other, and Kyouko only stopped because a guy in a navy blazer burst into view between them. His blazer strained over his stomach, close to popping open.

“There are sixteen of us now. That should be all of us, shouldn’t it?” said the guy.

He got out a handkerchief from his front pocket and mopped at his brow.

“It’s abnormal,” he added. “This is without a doubt a declaration of abnormal contrivances!”

“Um,” went a guy in a leather jacket, with a dark grey scarf and what seemed to be a dark green hoodie worn under the jacket, though only the hood was visible. His young face betrayed the outfit’s aura of chaotic coolness. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what he’s saying, exactly, or what’s going on, but...”

“What’s going on is that we have been kept waiting by her!” shouted a guy in a white vest top, black and silver bangles on both of his wrists. The ones on his right arm trembled as he pointed at Kyouko. His eyes resembled those of the girl with the two hair bunches. Red pupils. The same. “You need more discipline in your life! To be late, on your first day... It should warrant a prison sentence...!”

His watery eyes suggested that he needed a handkerchief more than the overweight guy in the blazer.

“In most situations, I would be obliged to report this to the school officials,” said the overweight boy, the glass in his circular glasses flashing as he tossed his head around. He pulled on his striped tie but didn’t get a chance to say anything more, as someone else spoke next.

“You guys can’t be serious,” blurted a girl with long, thick, unruly strawberry blonde hair, barely restrained into a ponytail. She tilted her head to one side. “We all just woke up mysteriously and this is what you’re concerned about?”

Then all of a sudden, her demeanour changed,, and she rested her chin on top of her fists, blue eyes wide.

In a childish voice, she said, “None of us could hwelp it, ya know!”

“H-Hey, you’re like a different person,” said another girl, dressed in a plain red kimono and wearing a necklace consisting of orbs and a magatama. Her ponytail squirmed, as if sentient, quaking with fear. “You’re not possessed, are you?”

“Don’t mind my sister, she has a habit of changing her personality when she gets bored of her current one,” explained a freckled girl beside the strawberry blonde. Other than having a black bob, freckles and a smaller chest, the freckled girl looked just like the girl next to her. They even wore the same black cardigan and red pleated skirt. Kyouko assumed they were twins, though it was odd because no one in their class shared the same surname.

The blonde girl shot a glare at her sister. “Oi, oi!”

Apparently she already got bored of her last personality.

“Shall I tell everyone when you have a yeast infection?” she sneered. “Or that you always squint one eye slightly? Why don’t you tell them my blood type?”

“It’s AB,” said the black haired sister, deadpan.

Kyouko cut in before the blonde sister could retaliate. “It’s difficult to keep track of all this without knowing who any of you even are.”

The guy with the bangles punched the air. “She is right! We should make sure everyone knows everyone’s names, and then get to the matter in hand.”

“You really think now is the time for introductions?” asked a guy who hadn’t spoken yet, voice gruff. He patted his pompadour and rolled his eyes.

“Wouldn't it be best if we understand one another more first?” asked the girl with black hair and red eyes. She nodded and because no one had said anything, it could only be assumed that she was nodding to herself. “Yes, now feels like the ideal time for introductions and perhaps when we’ve finished, there will be a new development. Everyone is here now, and once we know each other better, we can work together more efficiently, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think she’s right,” piped up the person in suspenders. There was a murmur of agreement from those around them.

“So it’s decided,” said a girl in a white-and-blue schoolgirl uniform. Despite her skirt’s short length, no skin on her legs was visible due to her black opaque tights. “We’ll introduce ourselves first and then figure things out from there.”

That was reasonable enough. Kyouko didn’t feel strongly about the matter, indifferent to the idea of making friends, but she concluded that she should know at least something about everyone. She needed to scope out them all in case one of them could pose a threat.

The room soon filled with mumbles. To start off, Kyouko walked up to the girl with red eyes and black hair.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the girl, bending her legs and pinching her pleated skirt as she curtseyed. “My name is Celestia Ludenberg but please feel free to call me Celes. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

Kyouko turned her head slightly to one side and folded her arms over her chest. She let a few seconds elapse before she said, “My name is Kyouko Kirigiri.”

Celes straightened up and held out her hand, which Kyouko grasped firmly.

“Ah, yes. Your name cropped up on the Hope's Peak Academy thread a few times, but there wasn’t much information about you,” said Celes. Kyouko gave a quick nod though she didn’t totally understand what Celes meant by ‘thread’. Maybe it was like the list of classmates that Kyouko got to revise from. “Tell me, Kirigiri-san, what is your talent?”

“Fighter,” replied Kyouko. “What is yours?”

“Hm?” Celes’s eyes widened briefly and she touched her fingers to her lips. It wasn’t quite clear which part of what Kyouko said that Celes was reacting to, not until she spoke again. “A fighter? There were discrepancies between the posters in the thread about what you... Fighter had been put forward, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t come across as that sort of person. Oogami-san, who you will undoubtedly become acquainted with soon, seems like she would be a fighter.”

Kyouko didn’t respond.

Celes smiled at her. “Don’t misunderstand my reaction, however. I look forward to getting to know you. We’ll surely have a... beneficial relationship.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“What is your title?” asked Kyouko.

“I am the Super High School Level Artist,” said Celes.

Kyouko furrowed her brow. “I don’t recall an artist being in our class... The closest that I remember is a Doujin Author...”

Celes’s face immediately soured.

“That would be me, most likely,” admitted Celes. She tried to smile again, and somewhat succeeded. “But it is nothing to scoff at, I assure you. Celestia Ludenberg’s work, my work, sells by the thousands at conventions and festivals, containing artwork and themes that don’t become irrelevant no matter how much time passes. They’re instant classics.”

Though Kyouko didn’t know much about doujin, she suspected that this was supposed to be an achievement. It had to be, if it got Celes scouted by this school, though Kyouko didn’t think enough time had passed to be able to call any of her things ‘classics’. Either way, Kyouko didn’t feel very impressed and she cupped her chin, more interested in other things.

“Tell me,” Kyouko said, “are you Japanese?”

Celes narrowed her eyes, maintaining her small smile. “What if I am?”

“I would like to know your real name, if we are going to be in the same class.”

“I beg your pardon, but do please call me Celes,” said Celes. She laced her fingers together and though she giggled, her firm tone indicated that the conversation had ended.

Kyouko refrained from shrugging at Celes and wandered off in search of someone else. Almost immediately, she bumped into the guy with the bangles who shouted at her for being late. He faced her. To be honest, Kyouko didn’t really care about a noisy person like him, but he grabbed one of her hands and started shaking it so she felt compelled to stay.

“My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru,” he practically shouted at Kyouko, all while still shaking her hand. She forced herself not to stare downward, which meant she looked at his face instead. Straight, white teeth showed in his grin. “You must be Kyouko Kirigiri, yes? There was not much information about you, which I applaud you for! Your parents must have taught you wonderfully about internet safety.”

She blinked. “Right...”

Her family’s dojo didn’t even have internet.

“What is your title?” he asked, still loud. This must have been his default volume. “I am the Super High School Level Idol.”

Right. She vaguely remembered his picture. It hadn’t really interested her.

“I’m the Fighter,” she said. Kyouko glanced at his slicked back spiked hair. Though she didn’t know much more about idols than she did doujin, she thought that maybe him being an idol was why he projected his voice so much.

“Fighter, hm? Kirigiri-kun, that is an impressive title that I expect you to live up to,” he said. “Fighters and idols... We are both constantly in battle against others in our fields, you know. You and I will get along swimmingly.”

He finally released her hand, leaving Kyouko free to continue to the next classmate. Their conversation had been quite short but after dealing with someone as intense as Kiyotaka, Kyouko felt exhausted. She spotted the person in suspenders, and as they were alone, she approached them.

“H-Hello,” said the person, cheeks pink. “How do you do? My name is Chihiro Fujisaki.”

“Kyouko Kirigiri, the Super High School Level Fighter,” said Kyouko, getting right to the point.

“W-Wow...” It left Chihiro in a breath.

Neither spoke for a bit.

Chihiro bowed their head. “O-Oh... I’m sorry. I’m not very good at self introductions, but...”

They forced themselves to meet her gaze.

“... but it’s nice to meet you,” they finished.

“It’s mutual,” said Kyouko.

Silence threatened to creep in between them again. Kyouko tried to recall what Chihiro’s title had been, but failed. In fact, she couldn’t even remember seeing them on the list.

Chihiro hunched their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t know what to say, and it must be making you feel uncomfortable,” explained Chihiro.

“Not really,” said Kyouko indifferently. “I don’t care for small talk, so it’s fine by me. Why don’t you tell me what your Super High School Level is, if you want to talk about something worthwhile?”

Possibly because of how bluntly she phrased her request, Chihiro’s hazel eyes welled up with tears. Kyouko was a hard person to catch off guard, but even she winced.

“P-Please don’t hate me, but I’d rather not say what it is,” said Chihiro.

She had told Chihiro her title and it couldn’t be more embarrassing than ‘doujin artist’. Frowning, Kyouko tucked some hair behind her ear and said, “You not telling me isn’t something that will make me dislike you, but it does make it harder to trust you.”

“I understand.” Chihiro hung their head. “But... I was instructed not to tell anyone, you see.”

“By who?”

“By the people in charge,” answered Chihiro, ready to renew their tears.

“In that case, you should keep your promise especially in suspicious circumstances like this,” said Kyouko, still not particularly satisfied with Chihiro’s explanation, but she exchanged a small smile with them before moving on.

Someone who had yet to speak in Kyouko’s presence stood alone, a slouching girl with a braided bun who wore a white ruffle collar blouse and a high waist wine purple skirt that almost reached her knees, similar in colour to her hair. Kyouko darted around the overweight guy and the pompadour guy, both preoccupied in their own conversation, and strode up to the girl.

Both showed reluctance to talk. The girl wouldn’t even look at her.

In the end, Kyouko ended the standoff. “Who are you?”

Kyouko’s efforts were rewarded with a flash of eye contact and a shaky, “Y-You’ll probably only r-remember it so you can ask for a favour later, but my name is Touko Fukawa.”

“A favour?” repeated Kyouko, brow quirked.

Touko’s grimace became more prominent and she looked ready to vomit more than her resting face did. She stroked a finger against the corner of one eye and for a second, appeared confused, and then her hand dropped down to her chest where she curled it into a fist.

“O-Obviously that’s the only reason why you would go through the whole charade of making friends with me,” said Touko. Her violet eyes squinted harshly. “I’m the Super High School Level Heir, heir to the Fukawa Conglomerate. I’ve m-made billions of yen on my own merits, so don’t think that I’m an airhead who isn’t wise to the underhand tactics of a pleb such as yourself!”

By the time she finished talking, Touko had stretched out her arm, directed her index finger toward Kyouko and was shouting.

A couple of seconds passed.

“Sure,” said Kyouko. She turned away and started to walk off.

“Eh? What are you doing?” Touko spluttered. Kyouko peered over her shoulder and watched Touko wave her arms indignantly. “You can’t just ask me about myself and then leave without a word about yourself!”

“I am Kyouko Kirigiri. I am the Super High School Level Fighter,” said Kyouko, tired of having to say this to everyone. She should have announced it as soon as she arrived at the entrance hall.

Touko stopped flapping her arms. “F-Fighter? S-So that’s what you are...”

Her surprise melted in anger’s heat.

“But... But you’ve got a similar body type to the other girls,” said Touko. “You’ve got to be lying.”

“There is no reason for me to lie about that,” said Kyouko. “Goodbye.”

This time, she left for real and headed over to the next available person. As Kyouko introduced herself to the guy with the leather jacket and hoodie combo, Touko’s grumbling fading away somewhere behind her, Kyouko thought to herself how this guy would be the fifth person that she learned about, and how she was only a third of the way done.

The whole arrangement was needlessly bothersome.

“Kirigiri-san? Um, Kirigiri-san? Are you okay?” said the guy.

Kyouko flinched. “Hm? Did you say something?”

The guy rubbed the back of his head and let out a sigh. “You zoned out...”

She thought he would get mad but he shot a grin at her. His dull hazel eyes showed no hints of annoyance at Kyouko’s lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Makoto Naegi,” he said. Makoto’s light brown hair stuck out in several tufts, the largest being on the top of his head, and his leather jacket, pierced ears and tight black jeans really didn’t suit such a friendly guy. Kyouko eyed him with suspicion. “I’m the Super High School Level Gambler.”

“Gambler...? Isn’t there a Super High School Level Good Luck student in our class too?” asked Kyouko.

“Y-Yeah,” replied Makoto, wilting a bit. “You don’t think we’re too similar, do you?”

“It depends what sort of games you gamble on.”

Makoto perked up. “Well, there are some where the outcome is determined by sheer luck, like bingo or roulette. But even games that are more dependent on skill like card games are influenced by luck, and I haven’t lost a single game yet...”

He met Kyouko’s eyes and laughed. She just stared at him until he spoke again. This time, he talked in a calmer tone.

“S-Sorry, I must be boring you,” he said, and she might have almost missed his passion from earlier. “What about you? I didn’t see much information about you on the Hope's Peak Academy thread.”

Kyouko combed the fingers of one hand through her hair and gave a small flick of her head. “I am the Super High School Level Fighter, hailing from the Kirigiri Family. My dojo is in a secluded area and I only left for tournaments. That’s most likely why there was little information about me available.”

“Oh.”

A small, unhelpful remark like that indicated to Kyouko that the conversation ended, so she turned away from him and scanned the crowd for someone else to talk to.

“Did you have many friends, Kirigiri-san?” asked Makoto, who apparently hadn’t meant his ‘oh’ to be the final part of their exchange.

She didn’t answer immediately.

“I had my family, mostly.” Kyouko narrowed her eyes and turned back to him. “Why are you asking me that?”

He showed Kyouko his palms and quickly explained, “It’s just, this would be your first time hanging out with other people your age.”

“Hm,” she went, and then she saw something that piqued her curiosity. Everyone had loosely gathered around in front of a large, circular doorway, and she chose now to investigate it, allowing herself a break from orthodox introductions.

Up close, she found it to be a bulkhead, firmly sealed. It must have led outside, but no matter how hard she wrenched at the handle in the centre, the door refused to budge. Undeterred, she persisted, teeth clamped together. She hitched up her leg and pressed her foot flat against it, pulling harder.

“Do not waste your energy,” came a husky voice from behind Kyouko. “I have already attempted to prise it open to no avail. It reminds me of the entrance to a military base, and those are difficult to break through.”

Kyouko let go and spun around. When she faced the person who was addressing her, she widened her eyes, just for a moment. A burly figure, taller and more muscular than all others present, gazed down at her, face framed by long white hair. Just as striking as her hair were her scars, several on her arms and shoulders and one diagonal on her face, from the left side of her forehead to below her right ear.

If someone could break down the door, it would be her.

“You’re Sakura Oogami, right?” said Makoto, standing next to Kyouko. He must have followed her to the door.

“Indeed I am,” came the reply.

Makoto gulped, shivering.

“Sakura Oogami, the Invincible Soldier,” he said in awe.

Kyouko glanced at him. “What?”

He turned to her. “Oogami-san is the Super High School Level Soldier. Many believe her to be a myth, fabricated to strike fear into the hearts of foes, but here she is, in the flesh...”

Sakura bobbed her head in agreement.

“Projectiles just bounce off her and she can catch every bullet from a machine gun between her thumb and finger, because she moves so fast,” Makoto added, squeezing his hands together, eyes glazed over.

Okay, that last part had to be made up.

“Did you read about everyone in our class prior to coming here?” Kyouko asked him.

Makoto shuffled his feet. “Y-Yeah, in the Hope’s Peak Academy Thread.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“You don’t know?” he asked back, incredulous. He paused, but not for long enough that she could say anything. “Someone made a thread on an internet bulletin board where people could talk about this year’s students. Didn’t you know about it?”

“No,” she replied. “I did not have access to the internet at my dojo.”

“Really?” he asked with a rise in vocal pitch. He coughed. “How did you survive?”

Kyouko narrowed her eyes. “By eating food...? My family have a farm.”

Makoto’s shoulders slumped and she felt sure that he was trying not to smile. Either that, or he was trying to smile. She couldn’t tell.

Sakura cleared her throat. The other two looked at her.

“Please, forgive me for the intrusion, but are you then Kyouko Kirigiri?” asked Sakura.

“I am,” said Kyouko calmly.

Sakura raised her fist, but didn’t seem to plan on using it. Even so, Kyouko kept her guard up, mind whirring as she analysed Sakura and picked up on any weaknesses that Sakura might have. Perhaps she had a blind spot, or could not easily reach behind her back.

“You are not quite how I imagined,” said Sakura, fist losing some height.

“Yeah, I sort of imagined you to look like Oogami-san does,” admitted Makoto, eyes averted as he scratched the back of his neck.

Though Kyouko didn’t appreciate their comments, she supposed that she could understand where they were coming from. Kyouko was more muscular than the rest of the girls in their class, barring Sakura, of course, but many of her opponents had scoffed at her physique. She repaid those people by inducing tears in their eyes.

“Kirigiri-san must be stronger than she appears,” said Makoto. “Like Master Roshi, or Master Splinter, or Evangeline A.K. McDowell...”

“The Old Master Trope, though a more accurate classification would be a Pint-Sized Powerhouse for her,” mused someone nearby, a tall, blond guy with white framed glasses, wearing a long black wrap coat secured with a belt at the front and with similar buckles on his forearms, three on each. At the neck area, the material folded a lot so it looked like he had a scarf on at first glance, though it was just part of the coat.

Kyouko pushed her lips to one side, unimpressed. His outfit came across as him trying too hard to seem cool.

“You,” said Sakura. “Identify yourself.”

Arms crossed, the guy said, “I’m Byakuya Togami.”

His name meant nothing to Kyouko.

“He’s the Super High School Level Writer,” said Makoto, happy to fill Kyouko in. “When he was just ten, he published a novel and soon after became a household name. Several of his books have television and radio serials, and his name is a constant on the best selling list, despite him being just a high school student.”

Kyouko turned back to Byakuya and trained her eyes on him. He looked off into space with a faint smirk, even after she addressed him directly.

“What genre do you write?” she asked.

“Mystery, crime, but mostly detective fiction, which is a subgenre of those first two,” he said, and he looked at her properly. “I have a serialisation deal in a magazine in addition to what your friend said, but judging by your gormless expression, I assume you have not heard of me.”

‘Friend’ was pushing it.

“Kirigiri-san’s dojo was all the way in the mountains and it didn’t have an internet connection. She’s a Super High School Level Fighter,” explained Makoto, perhaps too happy to fill in details for other people and unlike Kyouko, not at all averse to the idea of being labelled as Kyouko’s friend.

“Can they not read in the mountains?” Byakuya asked. Kyouko inhaled, but then he spoke again, “Whatever, my self-introduction is complete.”

He walked off.

She pursed her lips and let him go without an answer, which though he asked a question, he didn’t seem to actually want. Neck and jaw stiff, she left Sakura and Makoto and padded over to the twins, who had huddled off to the side and were in conversation.

The blonde twin sighted Kyouko first and lifted her chin, fists pressed against her hips. “Greetings, have you come to pledge loyalty to me?”

“... No,” said Kyouko. She patted some hair behind her ear and glanced away for a moment. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Youch! That did as much damage as those guns attached to the security camera by the door,” said the girl. Kyouko straightened her back and turned toward the bulkhead, quickly spotting the camera there that was identical to the one in the classroom earlier. The four black cannons below it must have been the barrels of guns. She stared at it while the girl carried on talking. “I am Junko Enoshima, the Super High School Level Despair student.”

Kyouko slowly faced them again.

“That was a lie,” said Junko in monotone, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I am the Super High School Level Baseball Player, ace fourth batter of the country’s top ranking high school baseball team and also the sexiest member.”

“And I’m Mukuro Ikusaba, Super High School Level Swimmer,” the other twin piped up. “I’ve been chosen to be a representative at the next Olympics.”

Junko rounded on her, glaring. “Oi, Dumb-Dumb! Don’t upstage me!”

“S-Sorry!” Mukuro choked out, like Junko had a gun aimed at her.

Kyouko thought it best to change the topic a bit, not just for Mukuro’s sake but also because Kyouko didn’t really care about their squabble.

“I wasn’t able to research my classmates before coming, unlike most of the others,” said Kyouko. “So I don’t know who any of you are...”

“That’s really weird,” remarked Junko.

“Maybe,” admitted Kyouko with a small shrug. Her features hardened. “Now, tell me, if you are twins, why do you have different last names?”

“Ain’t it obvious? I got bored of it so I changed it to something cuter,” said Junko. She gawked at Kyouko. “What about you, huh?”

“I didn’t change my last name, no.”

“I meant what’s your name!” Junko yelled, and she crossed her arms over, out in front of her, the point of intersection being her wrists with only her thumbs and index fingers not curled inward like her other digits. Her thumbs and index fingers were stretched out instead, at right angles. “Name, title... but my guess is Super High School Level Dense.”

Charming. Time to move on. Kyouko whirled around. The guy with the small spectacles and dreadlocks was free so she approached him.

“I’m Kyouko Kirigiri,” she said. “Super High School Level Fighter.”

“Did you just brush me off?” asked Junko. To Kyouko’s displeasure, Junko strutted over, Mukuro tagging along behind with the expression a child might have when their mother demands that her child’s opponent be disqualified for unfair play because a young girl with violet hair couldn’t possibly defeat someone twice her size.

“Yo,” replied the guy. He rubbed his finger against the underside of his nose. “M’name is Yasuhiro Hagakure. Let’s take it easy, ‘right?”

“Take it easy?” said Kyouko. Her eyebrows raised. “How can you really have a carefree attitude at a time like this?”

His body jerked. He took a while to relax, and he waggled his finger at her as he explained, “H-Hey, don’t say it like that. This is probably just some kind of orientation the school is making us go through... It’s a really elite school, so it’s not weird if they have an initiation like this, ‘right?”

“An initiation? This is a kidnapping,” she said, with her hand touching her throat. “Didn’t you come to the entrance hall and wake up elsewhere like everyone else?”

Yasuhiro raised his hand, visibly uncomfortable. Junko hopped up and down, constantly changing feet, but Kyouko gave her attention to only Yasuhiro, so she gave up and pouted at Kyouko.

“That happened to me too, but like, it has to be some kind of joke,” he explained. “I might take a nap until this all blows over... I’d use my PDA, but all my gadgets are totally gone... even the ones that I carried on my person and not in my luggage. And as Super High School Level Hacker, believe me, I had a lot.”

He looked queasy and lowered his chin.

“... I hid my stuff in a lot of different places. Even some I can’t say at the dinner table,” he added, though Kyouko wished that he hadn’t.

“W-Wait a moment,” said Junko and when Kyouko chose to finally acknowledge her, albeit silently, Junko was removing her hand from down the front of her bra. “My phone is gone!”

Her vocalisation, much louder than Yasuhiro’s comments on his disappeared technology, turned the heads of those around them, and those who heard started to pat themselves.

“Mine is gone too,” whined Mukuro, stroking her cheeks. She bit down on her lip.

“Please, fellow Senshi, there’s no need to panic,” piped up the overweight guy. “I, Hifumi Yamada, who possesses the title of Super High School Level Public Morals Committee Member, has arrived!”

What a mouthful. He broke into a grin and rubbed one of his chins. Going by everyone’s faces, they, like Kyouko, weren’t reassured by what he said.

“Public Morals Committee Member?” asked Kyouko, eyeing his navy blazer and beige trousers.

Hifumi nodded fervently. “Correct... and you must be Kyouko Kirigiri, yes? The elusive student?”

“... Yes?” she said in a way that probably came across as her being unsure. Of course, that was her name, but the second bit... no, that made sense as well. How he called her ‘elusive’ had taken her by surprise.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem confused by her tone and smiled, ends of his lips pushing at his bulging cheeks. “My school record is spotless, and I hail from an incredibly well-known school that has a disciplinary committee which other schools on a global scale study and attempt to model. Professionals even study us and spies being sent in to try to find out our secrets is not unheard of.”

He thrust up a finger.

“Please,” he said, “stay close to me, and I will sort this out as soon as possible.”

“No way,” said a new voice, belonging to a guy with a shock of red hair and a goatee. His pale blue eyes twitched, flitting between Kyouko and Hifumi, and his quivering lips suggested him to be on the brink of laughter even if the situation wasn’t amusing. “You’re here because you’re a suck up in class?”

Hifumi jolted backward but quickly regained his composure. He adjusted his glasses and gave a loud snort.

“I don’t believe we have become acquainted yet. Fallen human, input your name,” said Hifumi.

Kyouko blinked, wondering if that meant Hifumi wasn’t human.

“Leon Kuwata,” said the other guy with a smirk, dusting his knuckles against his chest.

“Oh ho, then you have no right to mock me!” Hifumi pointed at him. “You are the student whose name got drawn in the lottery. Super High School Good Luck... Pah!”

Other students assembled around them. Byakuya curled his lips. “Is that how they selected the Good Luck student? How boring... I wonder though, would you be a Vanilla Protagonist or the Lead You Can Relate to...?”

“... I can’t tell if you’re insulting me,” said Leon with a weak grin, brow creased.

“He’s insulting you,” replied Touko nearby. “T-Those characters are usually quite d-dull compared to everyone else and tend to be flat...”

“What?” Leon glowered at Byakuya, who stared back with disinterest. “Just because I’m not dressed like a vampire, doesn’t mean I’m boring! I stand out way more than you do.”

There was truth to what Leon said. As well as his dyed red hair, spiked back, he wore a white jacket and vest, with a print resembling a blood splatter on the vest, but Byakuya’s comment did highlight something, at least to Kyouko. Leon’s right ear, pierced in six places, the stud of metal on his chin and the flash of silver in his tongue, as well as his abundance of belts and his white platform shoes, made it seem like he was going out of his way to avoid being seen as the average person.

Byakuya flicked his tongue. “Hm, perhaps you’ll turn out to be the Scrappy.”

Leon ground his teeth, and his chin dipped down without breaking eye contact between them.

“All right, that’s enough!” someone piped up. She was one of the few people that Kyouko had yet to talk to directly, a pretty girl whose existence supported the cliché description commonly found in books, of doll-like girls with porcelain skin. Her dark blue hair had been collected into a bun and her uniform, consisting of a plaid blue skirt, black tights, a white blouse and a pink bow, gave no obvious hints about her title.

Whoever she was, Leon and Byakuya turned toward her but didn’t say anything. Seconds later, Leon scratched the back of his head while Byakuya huffed and stalked off.

“That’s better,” said the girl, beaming, hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes locked onto Kyouko, who realised too late that she had been staring at the girl.

“You’re Kyouko Kirigiri, aren’t you?” she asked warmly.

“I am,” replied Kyouko.

“We haven’t formally met, have we? I overheard Yamada-kun say your name, so that’s why I know your name,” said the girl. Kyouko didn’t answer. “I’m Sayaka Maizono. Please to meet you.”

Sayaka let out a giggle. Why, Kyouko didn’t know. Kyouko pressed her lips together. Of all the people in her class, Sayaka had confused her the most, because she was, according to the list that Kyouko had been in possession of, a Super High School Level Gang Leader.

“You’re not mistaken. I am the Gang Leader,” said Sayaka, solemn.

Kyouko flinched. “How did you...?”

She tapped her nose. “I can read minds.”

There was a beat of silence between them, and then Sayaka smiled.

“I’m kidding. I just have good intuitions,” she said.

As Kyouko’s appearance and title had surprised the others, Kyouko swallowed down her misconceptions of Sayaka and shook Sayaka’s hand.

“What’s your talent?” said Sayaka once they let go.

Kyouko folded her arms over her chest. “Fighter. So you are the Gang Leader...?”

“Yep, of one of the most fearsome and respected motorcycle gangs ever,” said Sayaka brightly. Her shoulders bounced in a brief shrug. The smile vanished from her face as she added, “I don’t look it, but I’m really tough... maybe not as tough as you, but I can get mean if the situation calls for it.”

Sayaka resumed smiling. Kyouko breathed out. In a fist fight, Kyouko knew she would win against Sayaka, but something about Sayaka felt jarring. She would need to keep a close eye on her.

“Have you talked to everyone yet?” asked Sayaka. Less conversations were going on around them now, as a few individuals had finished introducing themselves to the others.

Kyouko scanned the room. “I just need to talk to three people, and then I’m done.”

Just three people. Finally. Three people weren’t that many, and her chest felt a little lighter at the prospect of this being over and done with.

“Who haven’t you talked to?” asked Sayaka, checking Kyouko’s eyes and then trying to follow her gaze. Kyouko pointed out the three people to Sayaka with her finger. One was the guy with the pompadour, the other was Leon Kuwata and the other was a girl dressed in a simple kimono.

“Ah, the lottery winner, the gyaruo and the fortune teller,” said Sayaka. “They’re nice people...”

“Hey, you two!” The exclamation originated from Kiyotaka, a short distance away. “We do not have all day to introduce ourselves! Short and to the point!”

Sayaka hid her mouth behind her fist. “I’m sorry...”

“Oi! You don’t gotta shout at them like that,” said the pompadour guy, standing not far from Kiyotaka. He puffed out his chest, giving clearer view to the leopard stencil on his red vest, worn underneath an unzipped leopard print jacket.

Kiyotaka squared his shoulders and both glared at each other, heavy in eye contact, looking ready to either headbutt the other or instantaneously combust. Their confrontation drew an audience. Junko laced her fingers together and rocked her hands, a wide grin plastered across her face, so different to her sister, who watched on grimly.

“I have seen you before!” Kiyotaka said. “You're Mondo Oowada. I’ve seen you on the front cover of that Men’s Egg magazine!”

Mondo hesitated. “You read that?”

“Just the cover,” clarified Kiyotaka.

“‘Men’s Egg’? That sounds like a cooking magazine,” said the girl in the kimono, the fortune teller. She stood nearby, wearing sandals, their base white and the green band between her big toes and the ones next to them decorated with yellow gems of different shapes, though each sandal had the same shapes as the other one.

Bored of Kiyotaka and Mondo’s squabble, Kyouko slunk up to her. The girl noticed only after Kyouko came to a stop, and she offered Kyouko a friendly wave.

“Heya. M’name’s Aoi Asahina,” she chirruped. “And you’re... um...”

A blank look clouded over her features.

“Kyouko Kirigiri. The Fighter,” Kyouko helped out.

Aoi gasped silently and punched the palm of her hand. “That’s it!” She gave a nervous giggle. “I won’t forget it this time, I promise. Kirigiri... Kirigiri...”

The last part, she whispered, and she whispered it as she wrote something with her finger onto the palm of her hand. Aoi paused.

“... How do you spell Kirigiri?” she asked. Before Kyouko could answer, she twitched her hand, lifted her chin and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll check later! So, you’re a fighter, huh?”

“I am,” said Kyouko. Her eyes flickered. “And you are a fortuneteller, correct?”

“Yup,” went Aoi with a nonchalant shrug. “If you want, I can give you a reading later.”

“A reading, huh? What does that involve?” said not Kyouko but Leon, which saved Kyouko the effort of going over to him after she finished her conversation with Aoi. Kyouko glanced over at where Mondo and Kiyotaka had been fuming, only to find that they had parted ways and stood on opposite sides of the hall. Everyone else dispersed too, dotted around the area.

Aoi rubbed the back of her head. “W-Well, I have a few different techniques... but we should be getting to the bottom of all this, right? We’ve been here a while and no one else has come to greet us... no teacher or anything.”

Leon shoved a hand into his pocket, other hand thumbing his ear. He blew out air from his mouth, aiming it upward.

“That Hagakure guy said this is probably just some weird tradition that all new students do. They’re probably watching us on that camera over there and eating popcorn,” said Leon, and he shot a glare at the camera from over his shoulder. Soon, he turned back. “You’re Kirigiri, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“I’m Leon Kuwata. You’re a ‘Fighter’, right? Everyone on the official thread were suggesting different things.”

Kyouko’s eyelids felt heavy. “I am the Super High School Level Fighter, yes.”

“You? For real?” asked Leon, mouth left ajar between words.

“For real. And you’re here because of ‘Good Luck’,” she said, steering the conversation toward him. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, that. There’s a lottery, right? Every high school student’s name gets put on a list and one is picked out and the winner attends this school. So, like, I don’t have any expectations to meet like you guys, but I’m going to use this place to boost my career.”

Aoi tapped a finger against her lips. “Career?”

“I’m gonna be a musician, duh!” he said.

It certainly explained the flashy direction he took his appearance in.

“Hey, you could be my bodyguard,” he told Kyouko. “All musicians need a bodyguard, don’t they? Once I’m racking in the cash, I’ll give you a proper salary. I’ll even let you hang on my arm if you want, to get all the chicks and guys jealous.”

Kyouko was about to decline his offer but then a bell rang, two times, ding dong, ding dong, and a silhouette appeared on a television screen attached to the wall near the bulkhead, covered in static, and the someone on the screen spoke.

“Aaaah! Aaaah! Mike test, mike test! This is an announcement!”

**Author's Note:**

> i'll leave this as complete for now and maybe finish it... one day. maybe. i know who the mastermind is and all the future murderers/victims anyway.
> 
> for drfanmonth :o


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